Hero's Prelude
by MyNameIsTragedy
Summary: Because deep in my heart, I somehow knew that this would be the day that I, Alfred Franklin Jones, the personification of the United States of America, will die.


**Right, so...here's the prequel to _War Song. _It's in America's point of view and really, I'm not that good in making POVs. Sometimes, I can get the character out of, well, character and we all know that to write a POV, you need lots of info on your chosen character's style and personality. I've read America's file a dozen times already (and I still do for fangirl purposes X3) and I'm still not really sure about this...**

**But hey what the Hell. No use rambling over shits like those. When you bring out the big guns, you better use them 'til you've run out of bullets.**

**NOTES:**

**Kiev-Rus - Forerunner of the USSR and father of Russia, Ukraine and Belarus. Jumpstarted WWIII by bombing Alaska. More corrupted and war-torn than his children.**

******New Soviets -** Faction under Kiev-Rus. Comprised of forces from Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and an unidentified ally.

**Allistor Kirkland/Uncle Al - Scotland. The hottest out of the British Isles.**

**Lancelot Kirkland/Uncle Lance - Wales. One of England's elder brothers. He considers himself a dedicated knight and takes the ways of chivalry seriously. Tends to be overprotective of England and usually nags him to keep his hair tidy, though his own dark violet hair is long and tied into a neat ponytail. Of the brothers, he is the firmest of them as a gentleman and loudly disapproves of their attitude and foul language. However, he himself can cuss vulgarly when drunk.**

**Daniel O'Malley/Uncle Danny - Northern Ireland. One of England's elder brothers. His hair is mahogany brown at the roots and sandy yellow at the tops and its front is styled into a quiff, his overall look once scaring off his younger brother when they were toddlers. He has a close relationship with Ireland, considering their actual geography and history, and is usually his drinking partner. Like all of his brothers, his eyes are of a shade of green. **

**Nigel O'Malley/Uncle Nigel - Ireland. Twin brother of England who looks just like him except with thicker, more intimidating eyebrows and messier, auburn hair. His eyes are of a lighter shade of green than those of England's. An excessive drinker and lover of potatoes, instantly finding a friend in Germany when they first meet.**

******Reformation of the United Kingdom - **Due to the business of war, Northern Ireland, Wales and Scotland had gained temporary independence. They then used their newfound freedom to help England and deploy forces overseas.

**Absolute Earth Union (AEU) - Alliance against the New Soviets. Countries not yet eradicated or under New Soviet occupation instantly signed up to become members. It was led by the United States of America.**

**Russian Flight to Alaska or the Great Russian Compression - Russian leaders flee to Alaska to escape the AEU who had closed in on and then reclaimed Russia. They brought with them the strongest and toughest in their arsenal.**

**Band of Thirteen Powers - These were the thirteen countries in charge of taking back Alaska and ending WWIII. They were the USA, England, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Wales, Scotland, France, Canada, Germany, Italy, Japan, Prussia, China and a renewed Russia. As with the AEU, their leader was the USA. Prussia represented Austria and Hungary.**

**Schwarz - Prussia's pet black eagle. "Black" in German.**

**DISCLAIMERS:**

**I do not own Hetalia. Himaruya-sensei does.**

**I do own my concepts of Wales, Northern Ireland, Ireland, Kiev-Rus and the whole of WWIII.**

**Without further ado, please enjoy.**

* * *

Today's the day.

I let a sigh escape me as I stared on with blurred vision at the white ceiling of my borrowed room. My left hand was rubbing at the sheets, occasionally pressing down into the eiderdown mattress. I just didn't want to believe that today's the day this will all end, that this is the reality the road I had taken led me to.

And that Ivan's got good taste with the bedding. I mean, seriously I think I can drown in this kind of softness!

Haha. I'm straying away from the topic. It's nothing much really. Just about the whole WWIII that's been going on for nearly a couple of years now. And what's today? Well, just the day where we, the Band of Thirteen Powers, are going to face off with those New Soviet jerks once and for all. The day where we take back my Alaska and the whole world's freedom from the dirty clutches of Kiev-Rus. The day where the Earth's union is truly absolute.

Overall, a VERY big day. One I can't actually afford to be late to.

With much hesitation, I sat up from the king-sized bed, already missing the comfy, feathery hug it had on me. My right shoulder was stiff, just as how Yao said it would be. I dared myself a peek and undid the bandages a bit, amused that there wasn't any pain when I moved. But I frowned when I saw that the burns and gashes were still there, having expected that Chinese medicine could work miracles overnight.

Apparently not.

At least it didn't hurt anymore every time I did a quick flex. I wrapped my shoulder up again, giving it a good pat afterwards. I have to be in my best in this final battle. After all, I am the leader of both the AEU and the Band of Thirteen Powers. Everyone's expecting me to bring them to victory and defeat the Earth's prime enemy. And in the end, I can finally be the hero I have always dreamed to be.

A true hero. A real hero. THE Hero.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, yawning and stretching my arms above my head. Knocking any remaining sleepiness away, I got up and walked to the wardrobe to pick my attire for the upcoming brawl. I actually didn't bring that much, just my usual uniform and a few clothes for our temporary crash in one of Ivan's many mansions, this one on the Kamchatka Peninsula. From here to Alaska is just a few hours worth of sea travel. Kinda reminds me of D-Day with that raid on Normandy back in WWII, if you ask me.

Back to my clothes.

Well, I don't wanna look formal, that's for sure. It'd look like I was going to my funeral or something. So, I made a random grab and ended up with a plain white T and camo-patterned pants. I visualized how heroic I'd look in them, especially with my fave jacket on, and I liked it. Humming an old Elvis tune, I got dressed, the shirt's collar high enough to hide the bandages but allowing my dogtags to dangle around my neck freely. I paused after putting on my signature jacket and took the small metal plates, laying them out on my palm. Given my bad eyesight, I couldn't read the inscription engraved on them but I had memorized them by heart. One of them read,

"_United States of America_

_Alfred Franklin Jones."_

And the other,

"_Friend to All. Brother to Many._

_The Brave. The Free. The Hero."_

See? I really have to live up to it. I really have to be the Hero at the end of today. Not for myself or for the glory, but for the world, my people, my fellow nations, my friends and family. You think I'd let Alaska's bombing get the best of me? Hell no. With my role in this life, I don't have the right to die before I've seen to it that everyone around me is safe from the looming threat. That I would have someone who I can pass my cape to when my time as the Hero would end.

If ever anything like this massive war would happen, we nations are required to write down our wills and letters to those we cared about. This is in the case that we would be…terminated in battle. Our wills should contain what we would want others to do to our lands and if we have already chosen a suitable Inheritor. The Inheritor should be fit for the job and would be a dedicated leader to his people.

To be honest…I'm not entirely sure with my chosen Inheritor. But I know he would grow up to be a great leader. I have my full faith in him.

Dammit, what am I saying? The Hero isn't supposed to die! Artie would surely throw a hissy fit if I would, then he'd hurl some of his curses after my ass in Heaven.

Or Hell. Wherever it is I might go.

Shit…just…shit. I'm heading to the final showdown against Russia's old man. RUSSIA'S. OLD MAN. My rates of surviving this are…

I shook my head of the negative thought. Okay, Alfred. Calm down. You need to be cool on the whole matter. The leader has no right to panic and flail around like a madman. He has to be strong for his mates who are all dependent on him for victory.

Not to mention look goddamned heroic and awesome.

Taking Texas and my sheathed chainsaw – yup, I've decided to have good ol' Jiggy as my weapon – I strutted out of the borrowed bedroom, into the hallway and down the grand staircase. I saw the others in the lobby, all geared up and ready for battle. Now that I realize it, most of the Band of Thirteen Powers were armed with swords – Artie proudly calling his Excalibur, WTF? – ranging from longswords to rapiers. The rest, aside from the guns, had various other things for weapons. I had my Jiggy, Mattie had his solid steel hockey stick – my bro's got a strong whacking arm, mind you – and a few hockey pucks he can use as projectiles, Yao had his tough-as-Hell, bullet-deflecting wok and ladle and Ivan had that iron drainpipe of his.

And have I told you of Ludwig and how he carried a snub-nosed machine gun in each hand as if it were a mere pistol?

I jumped the last step of the staircase, the thudding of my boots catching their attention. I saw the flashes of surprise tense their faces for a fleeting moment, their expressions melting into ones of softness afterward. Okay. I've had it with their sympathy shit.

"Dudes! You ready for the final battle with the Enemy of All Living Beings?"

"The real question is are YOU ready?"

I turned to Arthur, countering his glare with my own. But I noted the flicker of worry behind his stern gaze so I broke the staredown with a sigh.

"Yes, I am," I answered, my voice full and sure. "I'm in my prime now and I feel better than ever. There's no need to be concerned over me and my shoulder. I bet I can even lift a truck with this baby!"

With a grin, I swung Jiggy about to show them how fine I was and how cool my fighting moves were. They still had there glares on but I could feel the tension in air lessen a bit, my grin widening in response.

"The medicine really worked. Thanks, Yao."

"A-Aiyah! No need to thank me," my Asian comrade said as he rubbed the back of his head, "I just did what I can to help my leader."

"Hahaha! Your help's awesome, dude! You made your leader as healthy as a zebra!"

"It's as healthy as a horse, you dimwitted Yankee," Arthur butted in, then sighed. "Well, I guess you truly are back to your knuckleheaded standards."

Gripping Jiggy with my left hand, I draped my right arm around his shoulders.

"Told ya so, Artie!"

"It's Arthur, you illiterate git!"

He pushed me away, sputtering about "butchering up his language" and the like. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Uncles – they said I can call them that – Al, Danny and Nigel snickering, Uncle Lance behind them with a disappointed look on his face. Seriously, that old man can be really prissy. You know, the yard-stick-up-his-ass kind.

"Big Bro! Big Bro!"

I turned around, my grin making a comeback. Peter was running towards me with Elizabeta trailing behind him, her expression soft and motherly. The kid stopped right in front of me and I crouched down to his level.

"Hey there, sport!" I greeted back, ruffling his hair then noticing the patch of gauze on his right cheek. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed? You still need to recover, you know."

"He convinced me to let him talk to you, Supreme Commander," it was Elizabeta who answered as she came to Peter's side, "and he wanted to give you something."

I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity sparked. Now that she mentioned it, the little guy seemed a little bashful, his eyes focused on his shoes and his arms behind his back, as if hiding something from me.

"Oh? What's that?"

My younger brother looked up at his companion who smiled at him warmly and gave his shoulder a pat.

"Go on, Peter," she simply coaxed.

Nodding, Pete slowly removed his arms from behind him, revealing the neatly-folded brown thing he had. He nudged it towards me so I put Jiggy down and took it from him, noting that it was made out of leather. As I did so, the bottom half of it unfurled and it was spread out in its full glory as a…

"B-Bomber…jacket?" I found myself stuttering, certainly surprised.

This one resembled my own, down to the very material that was used for it. There were a few more pockets which would be nifty for storing some ammo and grenades. Also, on the left breast, where mine had a five-pointed star, was an outline of a circle with wings – the symbol of the AEU. Grasping its shoulders, I turned it around. On its back was a huge "13" in bold white as opposed to the "50" on mine.

"It's symbolizes you guys," I heard Pete say, his voice sounding shy. "You know, the Band of Thirteen Powers."

I focused on the jacket's collar, taking notice of how the black on it was not furry but rather…feathery.

"The collar…" I drawled out as I felt it between my thumb and forefinger. "It's – "

"Feazers," Gilbert replied, to my utter shock. "Good sing I kept Schwarz' feazers after his molting periods. Really awesome, ja?"

I trained my eyes on him.

"Huh?"

"We arr herped in making that, my friend," Kiku explained, gracing me with one of his rare smiles. "Rook at the inside of the jacket."

I did as what he suggested of me, sitting down to flip the clothing over on my thighs and opening it up. Scanning the inside, I nearly missed what I was looking for, considering that dark brown thread really wasn't that much of an eye-catcher on black. It was some kinda scribble, but it was so tiny that I practically had to bury my nose in the fabric to be able to get a glimpse at it. It wasn't just a scribble. It was a list…of names…in cursive…?

"Hang on," I gasped, looking up from it. "They are signatures. YOUR signatures!"

"Spot on, mate!" Uncle Al exclaimed with a single nod of his head.

"Da, it is just as comrade Kiku had said," Ivan informed, his smile sweet but not deadly.

"Ah, it was hard work, mon cher," Francis added as he let out a little laugh.

"Vhat are you talking about? You didn't lift a single finger!" Ludwig bellowed, a vein visibly throbbing in his temple.

"Ve…I helped fratello, Luddie," Feliciano reasoned as he came in between the German and the terrified Frenchman. "We did the number on the back."

"And I did the symbol on the front!" Uncle Danny loudly cut in, only to be smacked upside the head by Uncle Lance.

"Tone down your voice, Daniel," he ordered, not looking pleased, "you're a bloody knight, for the Queen's sake. Besides, we BOTH did it, did we not?"

"You have really sharp eyes, Bro," Mattie remarked.

"Rightie-o, kid," Uncle Nigel agreed as he shot Artie a judging glance. "Especially since it was Arthur who stitched it in. Going mental with your needlework, git? Don't tell me you're turning into a fag because of that."

"What in the bloody fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

I watched as two sets of arguments began, one between Uncle Nigel and Artie and the other between Ludwig and Francis. Both Mattie and Feli were trying their best to calm each petty conflict down, but the peace was obviously strained beyond recognition. In the background, Uncles Al and Lance were engaged in a swordfight, throwing insults at each other as Uncle Danny cheered them on. Ivan was creeping Yao out. With what, I honestly don't know, but it seemed enough to send the Asian scrambling into a reluctant Kiku's arms. Gilbert was dodging blows from Elizabeta – how the Hell did she get there without me noticing? – while shouting "AWESOME!" at the same time. Those two look like they're in some kinda demented lovers' quarrel.

And yep, this is basically the Band of Thirteen Powers. Old men who tend to clash a lot and for no actual reason. I'm the leader after all and I'm fucking proud of it.

"I seriously wonder how the whole world decided on you guys as the main fighters," Pete sighed, settling down on my right.

"I wonder that sometimes, too," I honestly replied as I lifted the jacket again, sizing it up. "You were the one with the idea, right? You designed the jacket."

I threw him a sideglance, smirking when I noticed the tint of red on his cheeks.

"Well…I-I wanted it to look like your old one so that you'll feel comfortable in it. Everyone volunteered to help because you're our leader and all and we were able to get it done in a few days. We all wanted to express our appreciation for you in some way so…yeah…"

I let out a soft chuckle and shrugged off my jacket, giving it for him to hold. I then donned my new jacket, humming when I felt warm in it against the Russian weather. It was light and fit me perfectly, making me consider how he got my measurements…

"I know what you're thinking, Big Bro. It was Jerk-land and Big Bro Matt who did the sizes."

Laughter bubbled in my throat so I set it free, my bellow effectively shutting up everybody else. I can see them smiling at me as I fixed my new apparel on my person and ruffled Pete's hair good-naturedly.

"Thanks for this, Lil' Bro," I began as I got up, "and all of you guys, too. I'm really glad that you're my comrades, dudes, 'cause I know that you got my back. And to think I've put you through shit – "

"We don't mind, comrade Alfred," Ivan waved off, patting my shoulder. "As many times as we help you and your people, you give back five times as much, da?"

"Wah, yes, yes," Yao chimed in with a nod, "you Americans always stick your nose in other people's business. Annoying, yes, but considerate."

"Und not to mention AWESOME!" Gilbert exclaimed as he fistpumped. "You might be a total dumkopf most of ze times, but you're selfless."

"Selfless enough to dive headfirst into battle without thinking," Uncle Lance pointed out. "A brash yet noble young knight."

Mattie let go of his polar bear cub to wrap his arms around my neck. Caught off-guard by the sudden contact, I could tell that my eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates before I beamed and returned the brotherly embrace.

"Indeed," he mumbled as he pulled away, "truly a friend to all and brother to many. Especially to me."

"And me!" Pete chirped along, hugging my legs.

I laughed again as I gave each of my younger brothers a pat on their heads. Bending over, I picked Jiggy up and rested it on my right shoulder as I straightened back up. I then faced my team, my lips curving into a smirk.

"So, you dudes ready to kick some New Soviet ass?" I asked out loud, receiving vigorous nods as their response. "Thought so. Band of Thirteen Powers…time to roll out!"

We all shouted in unison, our combined battle cry rocking the mansion's foundations. And just like that, we headed out one by one, prepared to dance the final dance with our common enemy. I was walking through the open double doors when a tug on my jacket's left sleeve stopped me, making me turn around to confront my youngest brother.

"Big Bro, what about this?" he questioned, gesturing to the old jacket he was still holding.

Sighing thoughtfully, I took it from his arms and draped it on his shoulders, securing it so that it wouldn't fall off any time soon.

"It's yours now, Lil' Bro. This one you gave me is my new favorite. Take care of the old thing for me, okay?"

He stared up at me owlishly and I could see the tears welling up in his big, blue eyes. Then, he lunged forward into a warm embrace, his little arms tight around my waist.

"I will, Big Bro. Thank you," he murmured as he nuzzled his face into me more. "I love you, Al."

I felt myself smile at his words. I leaned forward to plant a kiss on his head.

"Yeah. I love you, too, Pete."

We stayed like that for a few more seconds before he reluctantly let me go, obvious that he still wanted to stay by my side. I bid him goodbye and went off to join my team, but not without ruffling his hair for the third time.

And apparently, for the final one as well. Because deep in my heart, I somehow knew that this would be the day that I, Alfred Franklin Jones, the personification of the United States of America, will die.


End file.
